


The Waiting Game

by hellodarlingjen



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Clark Kent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Clark inner angsts, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Omega Bruce, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, mama bear Lois lane, more tags to come, pining!Clark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellodarlingjen/pseuds/hellodarlingjen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark doesn't mind being used by Bruce in this way, after all, it only brings him closer to what he truly wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for the DC universe, so I hope I did well. I'm not sure if this will be a part of a series or not, so for now, it's just a one shot. A fairly porny one shot, with a fair amount of Clark's inner angsting. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

There was pure, carnal lust in Clark as he looked down at the figure under him, hips meeting ass in a resounding _slap slap slap _of skin, heart pumping as he could barely contain the deep, guttural groan in his throat. Bruce was the literal definition of perfection; those glassy, glazed over blue eyes, the sweat slicked skin, the enticing pink of his cheeks, and the pheromones that he gave off, making him smell so damned sweet, yet also with a hint of a darker scent, something much more rich underlying that sweetness. Everything about him sent Clark's alpha senses into overdrive, making him want to mark Bruce up in both his come, scent, and claiming bites.__

 

They weren't mates, nowhere near that point in whatever this was that they were doing, but Clark knew that, in the heat of the moment, Clark could ever so easily just bite and mark and _claim_ the omega as his, once and for all. But he wanted this to be consensual, all of it, especially the claiming portion, if Bruce ever allowed it. It wasn't often that the alpha was invited into the rich playboy's bed, but when he was, he knew better than to push his luck.

 

"How are you so damn tight?" Clark panted out, voice thick with desire. He gazed down at the gorgeous man, hands tightening on his hips, gripping him harshly as he shifted them a bit, pushing Bruce's legs up, practically bending the man in half as he fucked him, biting his lower lip and holding himself back from leaning down to suck marks into Bruce's skin.

 

There had always been rules between them, for whenever they had sex. Clark wasn't sure, but he was about seventy-five percent positive that Bruce at the very least had an idea of what the alpha felt for him. Maybe that was the reason for all the rules, to keep him from making a mistake and accidentally tying them together in a bond that Bruce obviously didn't want.

 

The alpha sometimes couldn't tell if man was just cruel by letting them have sex but with no strings attached, or if the omega was just completely oblivious to the fact that Clark was irrevocably and painfully head-over-heels in love with him.

 

Clark swiveled his hips just so, making sure to hit the rich man's prostate, grazing up against it with his cock just so that there was enough pressure to be teasing, but not enough to really bring Bruce on the road to orgasm.

 

He tried not to think about it too often. He knew that if he did, he'd end up with an aching chest and half a mind to confront Bruce about the whole thing. Doing that, though, was bound to end in heart break, and definitely not on the omega's side. Clark wasn't willing to risk this, no matter how little it was to having the full package of Bruce Wayne, not yet. He couldn't fuck this up. He just needed to follow the rules, and then perhaps he'd be invited to join Bruce in his bed more often, maybe allowed to help the omega with his heats. And then, perhaps, something more suitable of an arrangement.

 

Sure, they were partners in heroism on a platonic basis, sometimes a sexual basis, but Clark wanted more. He wanted to be partners in the most intimate way. He just had to take his time, burrow his way in, maybe impress Bruce into considering him as more than just a fling every so often, maybe influence him into a possible mate, and then.... A real mate, a true partner in every way.

 

"Fuck!! _Clark_ ," Bruce hissed, voice deep and gravelly, almost akin to his 'I'm Batman' voice, but not deep enough, and definitely not as dark or angry.

 

His voice shocked the alpha from this thoughts, and - okay, he definitely found the cursing way too damn hot for his own good - his cock throbbed with all the blood rushing south, almost feeling as if he could knot this second, although if he did that, he'd end up with a pissed off omega on his hands. An overly horny omega, but pissed off nonetheless.

 

So, he slowed down to a pace that was probably painful for the omega, one hand moving from his hip to his cock, stroking over the heated member, thumb digging into the tip, before moving lower and gripping the base tightly. He picked up the pace then, leaning over Bruce a bit, making sure that he was still bent in half, knowing that the omega liked it rough, especially when he was this wet.

 

Clark knew that, if he was going to knot Bruce, he'd need to pull out and turn him over, to make it more comfortable for the omega while they waited it out. He didn't want to do it yet, wanting to savor the gorgeousness that was Bruce Wayne in the throes of passion. He leaned over him more, spreading his legs a bit wider to accommodate him, and pressed their lips together in a harsh kiss, swallowing down another few curse words that were threatening to escape the man's mouth.

 

He had the ultimate urge to spill dozens of compliments about how pretty Bruce was, how good and wet he was, how beautiful his noises sounded, how much Clark wanted to make him _his_ , but doing so would ultimately make the playboy clamp up, would make his eyes go hard, and would make him hear the words 'Clark, none of that shit'.

 

The first time they'd hooked up had been an accident. It had been after a fairly difficult battle with some super villain (he couldn't exactly remember the name of off the top of his head at the moment), and they'd both been fairly high on adrenaline, and, in Clark's case, alpha pheromones and testosterone. Bruce was out as an omega, which made him all the more respected by the other League members. When they'd finally gotten alone, Clark had been unable to clamp down on the love and lust that he felt for the man. The omega had likely smelt the abundance of pheromones coming off of Clark, and while the alpha knew he could have knotted his hand just as easily, an offer at sex had his inner alpha singing. Before he knew it, both of them were naked and fucking, words of passion escaping his lips. Afterwards, he'd been informed that he couldn't say things like that, that they were to be saved for a special beta or omega in his life, not for Bruce.

 

It had been a few more flings after that when the rules had been placed and Clark had no other choice but to agree, unless he wanted to lose any and all access to even one night with Bruce. It hurt, of course, holding back like this and not being able to have his feelings returned without fear of rejection and heartbreak, but he knew that it was more bearable than nothing (well, not really, but he had to convince himself of that, or else he'd get broken up over the fact).

 

Time seemed to slow down as he felt Bruce bite his bottom lip, and he willingly opened his mouth up to the slight display of dominance, gladly giving it over for a taste of _Bruce_. It soothed him for a moment, and he pulled back, only to find the man's eyes blown wide with lust. He'd kept up the speed, he'd kept up the stroking of Bruce's dick, and he'd made sure to pay special attention to his prostate, and by that look, Clark could tell he was going to come soon.

 

And when Bruce came, Clark was never far behind.

 

A deep groan escaped the superhero's lips, and was soon followed by a quick, "Shit, I'm not gonna last much longer." Clark kept Bruce bent over as he continued to pound into him, before swiftly moving and pulling out, before proceeding to flip the omega over. Bruce easily went along with it, back arching as his ass raised, ready to be entered again, and without much ado, Clark did. His hands gripped the already slightly bruised hips again, and he went back to fucking deeply into him, enjoying the new angle, feeling as if he were going even deeper inside of him.

 

His hand wrapped back around Bruce's hard cock, stroking him madly, making sure to time his thrusts with his strokes, keeping the pace as he fucked in and out of his- no, _the_ omega, chest pressed over Bruce's back as he kept going.

 

"Come for me, Bruce," Clark murmured into his ear, before moving his face away and straightening himself up, looking down to watch as his cock spread Bruce's hole wide, watching as slick seemed to be dripping back along his cock as he pulled out and fucked right back in.

 

It was when he felt a tightening around his dick and the resounding moan that resonated throughout the room that he knew the omega was coming, and he sped up his pace, wanting to come not long after him. Clark felt the warmth and wetness of his orgasm on his hand, continuing to stroke so that he could milk the come from the man's dick.

 

He continued to fuck this beautiful, gorgeous, perfect man, until he heard the words that made his heart almost stop from giddiness. "Goddammit, please, give me your knot, alpha," Bruce whined, voice both deep and warm and so full of lust that it made Clark feel weak in the knees. "Plug me up full of your come, plug me up so much that I can fucking _feel_ it even days after."

 

Clark had no idea if that was Bruce or the horny omega talking, but he wasn't going to complain, and he most certainly wasn't going to deny his mate- no, shit, _the omega_ anything. Without much more goading needed, the alpha thrusted once, twice, three times before pressing his dick so damn deep inside the man, feeling his knot swelling and plugging up Bruce before he began to come, filling him up so nice and good.

 

"Ah, Bruce, my lo-," he began, alpha hormones clouding his judgement, before he realized what he was about to say and stopped himself. He was panting, sweaty, and without too much effort, he had them lying on their sides, Clark spooning Bruce from behind, grinding his knot into Bruce, feeling the omega shudder and hearing him moan. He wanted to compliment, he wanted to say how good Bruce had been for him, but he kept his mouth shut, feeling the man shift around, probably making himself more comfortable to wait out Clark's knot.

 

"Mm... I really don't see why we don't do this more often, Clark, you sure know your way around in bed..." Clark heard Bruce yawn. "Thanks, for... Relieving my stress, so to speak."

 

The blue eyed alpha couldn't help but press a gentle kiss to the omega's shoulder. "It's my pleasure, I'm here for you. Always."

 

And while Bruce may not know the full extent to that, Clark did, and that was enough. No matter what, he would be there for this man, this beautiful omega, even if he was being used. It was his duty as Bruce's alpha, even though the rich man didn't know that Clark was all his, in every respect. But that was fine. He could wait. He was good at waiting.


	2. Side story; Getting Caught In The Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Side story from Bruce's point of view. Lots of inner monologuing and a fair bit of making out. A movie date led to making out which led to them getting caught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This side story was written for Queenofshire405 (I'm sure you wanted this as a one shot but I couldn't help but add some of Bruce's own inner monologuing and it ended up getting added to this). I'm surprised I'm continuing this story, but I couldn't let it end at that and I wanna give the babies a happy ending, so I figured, why not continue? I hope you enjoy!

A movie played in the background, soft, muffled groans escaped a mouth, there was a rustling of clothes, a creaking of the couch.

Bruce was picky about the men or women that he invited home, wary that, somehow, they'd discover the Batcave, would discover his multitudes of secrets. It never happened, usually they'd visit his bed for the night and would be gone before sunrise in the morning. If they did happen to stay for breakfast, it was usually just that, and maybe a quickie in the shower, and then they were gone. Bruce rarely ever saw them again, and he was quite thankful for that.

He couldn't stand clingy lovers, be they alpha or beta, or (on the rare occasion) another omega. He wanted them in his bed for a night, and then he wanted them gone. It was rare that he'd ever call one up again, seeing no need to do so, not wanting them to get the wrong idea. Clark, it seemed, was a whole other category from his usual one night stands and lovers.

Bruce shifted himself, having ended up in the alpha's lap, legs on either side of the man's body, mouths connected. He'd stopped paying attention to the movie half way in, more concentrated on the way-too-hot Man of Steel in the room, wanting nothing more than to kiss him for a while, not even needing to be fucked. Not right then, anyways. Kissing was good, for the time being.

Sure, he was pushy, as an alpha, and he was a bit too nosy for his own good, but Bruce didn't have anything to hide from the man. He knew of him both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman, knew his good quirks and he knew his bad. He didn't judge, he didn't berate Bruce whenever he didn't want to keep him around in the morning, but he certainly was always willing to stick around to have coffee and a muffin if Bruce was in a good enough mood.

Early on in their friends-with-benefits relationship, the omega had made sure to place some ground rules that were not to be broken, and if they were, the relationship ended right then and there.

Warm hands slid up his back, before moving down to his hips, grasping him there with one hand, while the other slid under his shirt, stroking tenderly along his back muscles. Their lips remained locked, tongues in a battle of domincance, although Bruce was considering giving up, wanting to feel that slick muscle against his tongue and in his mouth. It felt good, to give up small things like this sometimes.

First and foremost, no sudden bouts of love and romance and all that bullshit during sex, or even after sex, be it during the knotting or not. Bruce could tell when Clark was holding back, and while he wasn't exactly keen on keeping the whole thing going while he knew what was going on through the alpha's head, he couldn't help himself. Clark's knot was _just that fucking good_.

He hated himself sometimes, for leading poor Clark Kent around by his knot, knew he was probably going to Hell for doing so, but again, he couldn't help himself. The poor bastard just had to be a top notch alpha with a glorious knot to boot.

The omega opened his mouth wider for Clark, groaning softly as he felt the tongue slide against his own, feeling the hand on his hip gripping him tightly, pulling them closer together. He was fairly close to just grinding down against the man, wanting nothing more than to feel a bulging erection in the alpha's pants, wanting to know that he could so easily turn this man on, that he had such control over him that just a few moments of making out could turn someone like _Superman_ on.

if that wasn't a compliment, he wasn't sure what was.

He pulled away for a moment, face flushed just like Clark's. "Fucking Hell, Clark, wasn't expecting to be taken advantage of when I invited you over to watch a movie with me and the kids." His voice was soft, much softer than he was used to hearing from himself, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was the heat of the moment, that was all.

"Your kids aren't even here, Bruce," Clark pointed out cheekily, and Bruce groaned in annoyance before leaning back in, pressing their lips together in a deep, yet brief, kiss. He pulled away yet again.

"Oh, shut up, you know Damian is bound to be here somewhere. If he walks in on us, you're outta here." He almost laughed at the immediate pout on Clark's face. It was cute, in its own way, on that fucking gorgeous face.

It wasn't that Bruce didn't have some inkling of feelings for the man, of course he did. But he didn't know what romantic love even felt like, much less what it felt like to be _in_ love. He knew that he was supposed to feel something more than just lust for the man, knew he should be craving to be mated to him, should be feeling burning passion in his heart and his gut just from looking at Clark. But he wasn't to that point yet, wasn't sure if he'd ever get to that point, wasn't even sure if there was a point like that. Sure, every now and then, when he'd catch those fiery blue eyes in the midst of battle, his heart would lurch and his stomach would twist in knots, but that just had to be the omega in him, the immediate acknowledgment of someone that automatically had pure dominance over him.

He felt lips against his neck, well, the barest hint of lips as they ghosted from behind his ear down, heading straight for his collarbone that peaked out from under his shirt. He knew that, before long, he'd probably be stripped down, and he'd honestly have no reason to speak against the idea, although the idea of anyone, be it Alfred or Damian, walking in on them kind of made him feel obligated to attempt mentioning them moving to his bedroom. But only if one of them got turned on enough to feel the need for actual sex.

Hopefully, they could both do with just a bit of making out. Then they'd concentrate on the movie again, of course.

Bruce didn't consider his class type as something that held him down, didn't consider it as something that should be hidden away. Sadly, even during these times, people didn't often respect him like he'd prefer they did, but he eventually showed them up that he was better than some bitch that spread his legs to any alpha nearby that would pop a knot for him. He always showed them though, both as a businessman (although, as a party boy, sometimes his reputation went right down the toilet when he got too 'drunk' and made a fool of himself) and as Batman.

He both submitted to alphas, but he also made sure to show that they couldn't push him around just because he was what he was. He took charge in bed a good portion of the time, although, when in heat, he was the horniest mess to have ever existed. Not that he let any alphas see him during that time. He may be good at submitting to them, may enjoy it, but he wouldn't allow anyone except his mate see him as a weak and horny omega during those few days out of a month.

He may have accepted himself a long time ago as an omega, but that didn't mean he was proud of his class, of his natural omega-ness, of his instinct to be bred and filled. When out of heat, he took control, he was in control of his body, and he was in control of the body fucking him, or the body that he was fucking. His instincts weren't, although when he smelled the musky, strong, testosterone filled smell of Clark's scent, it made him begin to leak slick almost automatically. He wouldn't ever admit that, though. It was nobody's business except his own, after all.

Bruce felt his shirt being lifted up, the hand on his back and the one on his hip having moved to the front, pressing briefly over his groin before shifting upwards to tug at his shirt gently, before slowly pushing it up, although not too much. Before long, both hands were under his shirt, ghosting upwards until they were at his nipples, pressing and tweaking there for a moment, and then they slid back down.

Those lips were on his neck still, lips dragging more so against the skin again, and Bruce almost had the urge to ask for something more than just lips. He kept his mouth shut, though. Biting was bad, certain bruises were bad, anything that high up on his body were bad. He let out a soft moan, head tilting back, before he reached out and dragged Clark's head back up and pressed their lips together.

"No," he murmured against his lips, and the alpha immediately understood, and they kissed more deeply once again, tongues sliding against each other.

The rules needed to be followed, always. Sometimes, Bruce knew that they were being close to broken, be it by himself or by Clark, but he always made sure that they both understood that it just couldn't happen. His rules ranged from no confessions of love, no compliments beyond 'you're so hot' or 'you're so fucking tight' (etcetera etcetera), and most importantly, _no biting_ , no marks, none of that shit.

Bruce liked his bruises, so long as they were along his chest or against his hips. Along his neckline and collarbones? No way in fucking hell. They couldn't be seen, and he didn't want an accidental nip of teeth. Hickeys usually led to more permanent, much darker, marks, and he just couldn't allow that. Being accidentally mated to his best friend wasn't on Bruce's agenda, and while he knew Clark would have no qualms against it, the omega was nowhere near ready for that type of commitment, be it emotionally or physically.

Bruce could feel a hardness under him, almost pressed against his ass, since they were practically chest to chest with each other now, the omega having moved just a bit closer, wanting more contact with the alpha. He smirked into their kiss, and tangled both hands in Clark's hair, tugging and silently asking for /more/. It would only be making out. Just making out. He didn't want to get caught with his pants down by Alfred, and especially not by Damian.

It wasn't that he slept around (okay, he maybe sort of did), but he didn't believe that he had the true emotional attachment to Clark beyond their friendship. He cared for him, a lot, but as previously stated, he didn't know what love felt like, and what he'd read up on the subject, he didn't feel it. Heart lurches and rare chest constrictions meant nothing. Well, it shouldn't mean anything, but even if it did, Bruce wasn't going to allow himself to divulge more than needed on the subject.

Bruce wasn't looking for a relationship, and Clark knew that well enough. So just this was good, just this was all he needed.

They continued to kiss, hands continued to wander, Bruce's ass happened to grind down on Clark's covered erection, the movie continued to play in the background, going unnoticed until the omega heard a distinct gagging noise and then an annoyed growl of ' _father_!'.

Pulling away quickly and practically dragging himself off of Clark, the omega found his son standing there in the doorway, eyes narrowed and cheeks showing a red blush there. Disgust was there in Damian's eyes, his mother's eyes, Bruce reminded himself, and there was a definite scowl there, eyebrows furrowed. Bruce could hear the alpha straightening himself up and could feel the embarrassment radiating off of him, and while he almost wanted to scold Clark, they'd both been caught in the act and there was only one thing to do in this situation.

With a flurry of movement, Bruce was standing and straightening himself out, before looking at Damian. "Since you certainly can guess what was going on there, do we need to have the sex talk now, Damian?" There was a look of horror on his son's face, along with a more obvious reddening of his face.

"Tt, n-no, of course not, father." Damian wouldn't properly look at Bruce, and barely even looked at Clark before muttering, "Although your alien boyfriend needs a good talking to about common etiquette and how it's rude to make out with the master of the house during a movie screening."

The omega almost responded, but he could tell Damian was embarrassed enough, so he just nodded. "It won't be happening again."

"Tt, it better not, or I'll tell my mother." Bruce knew that the threat wasn't a promise, so he let it go as his son left the room without so much as a look at them again, leaving Clark and Bruce there, the air filled with hormones and awkward tension.

The playboy omega turned to Clark, eyebrows raising. "As I said earlier, if my son found us, you'd have to leave. I'm sorry our.. Fun was cut short, but I don't think either of us will be able to enjoy ourselves properly knowing that he just saw /that/."

The alpha readily agreed, nodding, face red and hair frazzled. "I- yeah, I get it. It's better to stop now, and for me to go."

Clark seemed to take a moment longer than needed, as if collecting his thoughts, before he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss, and before Bruce could really react, he was gone in a flutter of clothes and there was only the indention of him on the couch. He stared at it for what felt like ages, mind numb and lips tingling with the almost too gentle kiss, barely reacting, before he shook himself off and shifted his attention to shutting off the television.

There was no time to think about what that meant, no time to consider the fact that his chest was constricting and he felt butterflies in his tummy. That kiss, it meant nothing to Bruce. It _couldn't_ mean anything. It wasn't allowed, not by his rules.

"No more thinking about it," he told himself, and he shut everything off, taking his time, before he went to bed.

It meant nothing.


	3. Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark still angsts on the inside, there's some shower alone time, and Clark ends up thinking too hard, but maybe it's for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this came out rather fast for me. I hope you guys enjoy all of Clark's inner monologues, and i swear the next chapter will be less inner angst and more... Something. Not totally sure yet lol. Sorry for any spelling errors, but I hope you enjoy anyways.

The night was young and Clark had his job to do. He couldn't just hover around the omega that he deemed as his own, not when the man would barely even spare a glance at him, much less allow him more than five feet from him without shooting him a hawklike glare that made his inner alpha want to shrivel up and die. He wanted to run up to his not-yet-but-hopefully-soon mate and beg for forgiveness, even though he didn't have a clue about what he did wrong.

Lately, it seemed that Bruce didn't want him anywhere near him, and while that set alarm signals off in the alpha's brain, he'd decided to ignore his instinct and play nice, not wanting to bother Bruce if the man didn't want him around. Not everyone thought the same way Clark did, especially not billionaire Bruce Wayne who probably had dozens of alphas sitting around, begging to knot him and take Clark's place. Just the idea of that made his hackles rise and his instincts go berserk, but he knew better than to show his obvious discomfort at the distance they had. It wasn't his place to complain, probably never would be his place to complain, if he were being completely honest with himself.

And, while the thought made his heart lurch in his chest, he knew that he'd have to accept it and maybe, just _maybe_ , attempt to move on. He knew it was practically impossible for him, considering that, as an alpha, once he'd chosen his mate (even if he wasn't chosen back), there was no way out of the situation. No other omega or beta would be able to take Bruce's place, not in his soul, anyways. Sure, Clark could easily find some pretty little omega to hang off his knot for a while, but eventually he'd be right back up the playboy omega's ass, wanting to soothe and please the man that he considered his mate.

In hindsight, it had probably been a terrible idea to fall for Bruce Wayne to begin with. But what could he say? The man was quite the charmer, be it as his billionaire, haughty, playboy persona or as his Batman vigilante persona. He knew how to turn heads, both as the omega he was and the man that he showed himself to be. Clark wasn't sure who the true Bruce Wayne was, but he guessed that figuring that out was part of the game.

Clark wandered the hall of the gala, greeting people, making connections, taking notes, his usual standard routine for these types of parties. He didn't attend them often, usually that was Lois' job, since she actually _enjoyed_ them (until annoying, prepubescent, rich alphas tried to hit on her in hopes of an easy lay because they were, well, rich). He was almost jealous that she enjoyed these types of events while also doing her job, but he guessed that it was an acquired taste. And the only real _acquired_ taste that Clark had gotten from these types of events was, of course, Bruce Wayne.

It was at one of these parties that they'd had their second official hook up, and also at one of these parties where the rules were set into stone. Wetting his lips, Clark smoothly grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray as a server made his way past him, although he made sure that he accidentally tripped over his own feet once he'd had it, nearly spilling the glass of fancy alcohol all over either himself or the floor. He was just a lucky klutz, after all. He couldn't exactly make a scene in front of all these rich snobs. Oh no, that job was left to Bruce, who seemed to be getting geared up for just that occasion.

Clark watched from his spot, having moved to the wall in a more secluded corner, casually sipping at his champagne, blue eyes locked on the faking omega. He knew when Bruce was drunk, he'd been there enough times to catch that blurred over look in his eyes, the slight wobble to his gait, the unabashed way that he talked about anything and everything. The playboy was nowhere near being drunk, let alone tipsy; he played dumb for the crowds, but he certainly was nowhere close to that, even when legitimately intoxicated. Nobody else knew that, though, and Clark was in no position to be correcting their views and opinions on the billionaire, no matter how often he wanted to correct a few alphas who'd comment on how drunk and easily manipulated Bruce must be.

While Clark knew that the omega wouldn't allow himself to be touched by such arrogant alphas, that didn't mean he couldn't help his inner alpha prickling at the thought of them going anywhere near Bruce. He knew it wasn't his right to be so possessive and overprotective of the man, he knew that the billionaire vigilante could definitely take care of himself, but that didn't mean his alpha instincts exactly listened and accepted these facts.

He'd watched Bruce swallow glass after glass of supposed red wine, but he knew better than to actually believe that ruse. It was either cranberry juice or something equally as sweet and non alcoholic. The man never actually got drunk at these parties, in fact the only time he really drank was when he was alone and in his home. Clark had only seen Bruce completely and utterly smashed four times, to be exact. Two of those times they'd had sex, or something inherently close to it. It never led to penetrative sex, Clark was never comfortable having sex with someone drunk. He always felt like he was taking advantage of them, so in the end, he got Bruce off and then tucked the usually already dozing man into bed, before proceeding to make himself at home in the wide expanse of the omega's bed. Shockingly enough, he was never kicked out, even when he could tell Bruce was enduring a raging hangover.

It was nice to think that, sometimes, he was wanted by Bruce, that he was welcome there when nobody else was. Although, he had no factual knowledge of how Bruce treated his other lovers, he just figured that he was a rare case in the grand scheme of things, considering that beyond the sex they were still comrades, still best friends. He probably overthought the whole thing to a point that it was embarrassing, but sometimes, he really couldn't contain himself.

He was a piteous, pining being, wasn't he? It was almost pathetic to think that he was so deeply and madly in love with a man that refused even the idea of love in their fucked up relationship. Clark knew that it was a hopeless thing, to expect anything more from Bruce Wayne. He knew that the omega was broken, but in his eyes, he was broken perfection. He wanted to mend him, to show him that he deserved love, that the rules he'd created were stupid and impossible to uphold at all times during their sexcapades. He knew it was a lost cause, that it had always been a lost cause. That didn't mean Clark was giving up, though, no matter how unfeasible the task seemed to be.

Bruce, he was worth it, even if Clark's heart was getting trampled and torn up in the meantime. The omega was worth the wait, always had been since the beginning, when the journalist had learned of his own feelings. He could continue to wait, no matter how long it took.

Shaking his head, to rid himself of those depressing thoughts, he watched as Bruce raised a glass up to his lips, probably a real glass this time, so that there would be a scent of alcohol to his breath when people came near. It was half empty when it was set back down on a table that was covered by a tablecloth, and then it was knocked over, shattering across the floor. The sound was shockingly clear, and heads turned to the perpetrator, a foolishly grinning Bruce Wayne.

The man stooped over, as if to pick up the glass, before 'drunkenly' slipping and falling, pulling the tablecloth right along with him, which in turn caused dozens of glasses to go right along with him. They all shattered on the floor, just like the first, and all eyes watched, nobody moving to help the billionaire who sat in the floor surrounded by his own mess of glass and wine.

Clark wanted to move to help, but before he could even take a step towards the disaster area, a few of the waiters made their way over. No guests even attempted to step forward to help the poor, drunken playboy billionaire, and the alpha could hear a few snotty betas laughing and a couple of alphas snickering and murmuring among themselves. Bruce was helped up, checked over for glass, and then one of the female waiters looped her arm around his middle and move to put his arm over her shoulder. She began to help lead him to the door, and with Clark's kryptonian hearing, he could hear her murmuring questions about who his ride was and if she needed to call anyone. He knew it was impolite to listen in, but he couldn't help himself when his mate- no, his best friend was in trouble, even if it was just a ploy to make a spectacle of himself.

He saw a few camera flashes and realized that the shock was over and that everyone was now watching the scene, taking in everything. He could see reporters and paparazzi taking notes, and he could hear everyone else speaking in fairly loud whispers, as if Bruce wasn't even there. Sure, the man was drunk and was being helped out of the room by an- Clark inhaled, taking in the scent closest to Bruce- alpha. Usually he would feel a small spike of possessiveness at the scene, that another alpha was helping the man that he wanted to mate, but he knew that she was just helping. If anything, her alpha scent wasn't even that strong, hinting that she may either be mated or was currently with someone. She was no threat to what was _his_ (Oh, Rao, he was possessive).

Once Bruce was truly out of the room, thanks to the help of the alpha female, the voices seemed to be getting louder as Clark went back to actually listening to the conversations unfolding around him.

"...of course playboy Bruce Wayne would make a scene like that, should have expected it...."

"....damn, he always does this at these parties! It's a nuisance, I don't see why anybody invites him anywhere..."

"...I'm sure his face will be in the papers once again tomorrow morning, serves him right for making such a fool of himself...."

"...poor guy, I feel bad for him, but he really needs to lay off the booze..."

"....man, if I wouldn't kill to have been the alpha to ' _help_ ' him out of here, I'm sure she's gonna have quite the time with him tonight, lucky bitch....."

Okay, Clark was done listening in on all of those bastards making such remarks about his beloved. Pretending to jot down a few things, since it was likely he'd be the one writing about the whole scene that night for the Daily Planet, he began to make his way to the door. He fixed his glasses, accidentally bumped into a person or five, and then was finally out of the room that had the stench of rumors and gossip and slander. Damn, he really hated rich snobs, sometimes he wondered how Bruce even dealt with it, especially when he would obviously be remembering everything that they said whilst he was leaving the room.

Exiting the building, thoughts having bubbled up in his brain that he was desperately trying to push out, ones that involved castrating a few of the alphas who spoke of Bruce in such a disgusting manner, he spotted said man and the female alpha standing by the curb. The woman was soothingly rubbing Bruce's back as the man leaned against her, obviously not keeping all of his weight on her while continuing his act of being intoxicated.

He didn't make a move towards them, listening as he heard soothing words of comfort from the woman, most of which involved 'your butler will be here soon to help you'. She must've made a call before Clark could get out there. He felt a small smile form on his lips, and he ducked his head down, before heading down the stairs from the building and across the lawn away from the two figures. He wasn't needed right then, so there was no point in butting in. The female alpha had the situation under control and Bruce would be home soon, so there was no reason for him to stick around. If Bruce wanted to contact him that night, he'd come, but for now, might as well go rescue a cat or two from trees. It would keep his mind off of things for the time being, and even while it wasn't much, saving a few lives (even cat lives) would be a nice distraction. He definitely needed it.

Once he was out of sight of the two, he was gone from the area, ready to save the day one cat life at a time, and if it came to it, he'd help a few human lives as well that night. When Bruce contacted him, he'd finish up, and then he'd see him, either as Clark or as Superman. That was how these nights went, it was nothing new. He knew his place, he knew how the balls rolled. He'd be seeing his omega in no time.

* * *

 

— **Later that Night** —

Clark entered his apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him, even though he lived alone, as was probably been made obvious by the single mug in the sink, the leftovers in the fridge, the single towel in his bathroom, and the scattered clothes near his hamper in his bedroom. Toeing his shoes off, Clark headed to his bathroom, clicking the light on and making sure that the blinds were fully shut before stripping down to his Superman suit and then into nothing, turning the water on.

He left the bathroom, not caring that he was nude, carrying his clothes with him. He'd let the water heat up, since he lived on his salary at the Daily Planet and he couldn't exactly afford a better apartment with a better, faster at heating up water heater. He dumped his dirty clothes in the hamper, tossing his costume on the bed, and then proceeded to pick up his dirty laundry and also dropping them in the hamper. He hung up his costume, humming to himself as his mind drifted off, thinking about that night.

Bruce should be home by now, shouldn't he? Clark hadn't heard a thing from the man, and while he'd had the urge to visit him at the manor all night, he'd known better than to just drop in like that, unless it was on business. He wasn't exactly worried, but he also was at the same time. He knew he was in no position to be thinking too hard on what the omega must be up to, but he couldn't help himself.

When it came to Bruce, he was quite the worrywart. He'd always worried, of course, be it about his Ma or Pa or his friends in Smallville or Lois. He even worried about his coworkers at the Daily Planet, although it wasn't often that anybody messed with them, considering nobody knew Clark Kent was Superman. Every now and then, Lois became the damsel in distress, and while Clark had no qualms to saving her, he knew many people thought that Superman was in love with her or something.

Sure, he used to harbor a crush for her (or what could be considered a crush, since his love for Bruce outshines that by far), and they had dated briefly, maybe a few months at the most. They'd had sex, he'd thought he'd been in love with her, but now he knew that that had been nowhere near the love he felt for Bruce. They'd broken up long before he ever realized his feelings for the billionaire, and thanks to that, he could consider her as more of a gay best friend.

Lois Lane wasn't like most omegas, although she was pretty damn submissive in bed when it came down to it. She wasn't like Bruce, either, since he was his own category of omega. She was beautiful, of course, she smelled delicious, and she certainly knew how to please an alpha. She was the perfect omega in every sense of the word. But, as it turned out, she wasn't as attracted to alphas as she'd seemed to be, and in the end had found attraction in her own cast. It wasn't uncommon, and Clark didn't judge her for it, but when he'd been told that when he'd been 'in love' with her, it had stung and he'd broken up with her. He knew that it had been the best case scenario for them. They were both happier for it, kind of. Well, she was happier. Clark was kind of in one-sided love Hell at the moment, but that wasn't her fault. It was his own.

He tried to jostle himself from his own thoughts, knowing that it was bad to think like that. It was late, he didn't want to bring himself down about things like that, but he knew that once he had his hot shower and was in bed, he'd be over evaluating and assuming the worst that night. It wasn't that he really needed sleep, an hour or three and then some time in the sun usually did the trick, but more sleep always helped him, especially when it came to his mood. He hoped that he'd be able to cut off those depressing thoughts early on, but he knew with his luck in things like this, that it surely wouldn't end with more than a few hours of sleep that night.

Moving away from his closet and back to the bathroom, he shut the door behind him, tested the water with his hand, and then climbed into the shower. He released a relieved sound of pleasure, sighing softly, and proceeded with his usual bathroom routine. Hair washing always went first, then a rinse, and after that a conditioning treatment. He'd let the conditioner set for a few minutes whilst he washed his body, applying soap to his wash cloth and lathering his upper body first, starting at his neck, and continuing lower.

He shut his eyes, relaxing as the hot water hit his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly easing from his muscles. His washcloth hit his upper groin, right around his belly button, and he couldn't help but bite his lower lip, mind wandering to more dirty things than earlier.

Bruce was immediately on his mind, but for a good reason (for once), and he had to bit back a moan as his hand brushed over his flaccid cock. Before he knew it, he was hard, and knew that it probably had to do with the fact that Bruce looked way too damned good in his suit, as always. It was tailored just right so that it showed off his powerful muscles and lean figure, while also giving a fine view of that ass that Clark knew oh-so-well.

_He could imagine himself pulling Bruce's pants down in the middle of that gala, getting a full shining view of silky boxers. He was on his knees, and he'd press a kiss to the man's lower tummy, right over his hipbone, and then he'd drag his teeth along that area, knowing full well to not mark, and he could hear the soft gasp from Bruce. He'd pull the omega's boxers down ever so slowly, breathing over the boner that would pop out and would slap against Bruce's abdomen right below his belly button, leaving a smear of pre-come there for Clark to lick up. He could practically hear the gasps of everyone in the room, and he'd just ignore them in favor of that gorgeous cock that was right there, all for him._

_He'd look up at Bruce as he continued to work his boxers down to the man's ankles, and then he'd lean in to just as he'd planned, licking up that stripe of pre-come, enjoying the slightly salty flavor, inhaling the tangy yet sweet smell of his omega's slick that would be leaking out just for him. He'd grip the billionaire's hips, would lean in to swipe his tongue over that pretty cock, tasting him more so than a few moments before. He'd rub his thumbs over his hip bones, and then he'd take Bruce's dick in his mouth, would suck at the head slowly, making sure to tongue at the slit._

_"God," he'd moan-_ and he really did, hand on his cock as he stroked himself in an easy rhythm to his thoughts- _and then would begin to take the omega's cock into his mouth, taking his time but also making sure to work his tongue along the member as he continued to take him deeper and deeper. It wouldn't be long before the cock head would bump his throat, and he'd keep going (thank Rao for his kryptonian genes of not exactly having a gag reflex)._

_He could imagine the silky feel of that cock in his mouth, could practically feel the ridges of veins and the slick, slide feel of it in his mouth. He'd continue to suck, hands remaining on Bruce's hips. He'd feel fingers in his hair, would feel them gripping and stroking, and then he'd feel them actually take hold. Bruce liked to take charge in bed, and even while they weren't technically in bed during this whole dream, he'd still do it, no matter who was watching. He liked submission from his partners just like he liked to be dominated, and that was perfectly okay with Clark._

His hand quickened its pace on his cock as his imagination just kept going, biting his bottom lip to keep his sounds down, knowing his walls were fairly thin, but a few moans would escape here and there, along with a few curses in kryptonian and the omega's name.

_Bruce would start to thrust into Clark's mouth and throat, knowing full and well that the alpha didn't have any gag reflexes, and he'd take advantage of that fact. Both of their grips would be bruisingly tight, although Clark knew better than to use even half of his strength on his omega. He'd leave bruises, though, since it wasn't above his collarbones. Even in his imagination, the rules were still there (he didn't know if that was a good thing or not)._

_He'd hum around Bruce's cock as the man would quicken his pace, going hard and fast into Clark's mouth. His hands would move around from his hips to his ass, spreading the billionaire's ass cheeks, before he'd press a few digits to the man's slick hole, would feel the natural lubrication just_ **dripping** _there. He'd press a few fingers inside after a few moments, thrusting them in and out once the pace picked up in his mouth. He'd briefly look up, taking in the beautiful view above, of Bruce's eyes shut, brows furrowed, sweat along his temples._

"Rao, he'd be so beautiful," Clark murmured to himself, feeling his orgasm coming upon him. He felt down to his knot that was starting to grow, and he gripped himself there. Better to not knot his own hand right now, he didn't want to be stuck in the shower for much longer.

_The thrusting in his mouth would pick up, and it would be long before Bruce was coming down his throat, holding Clark's head close as he came in his mouth, grip tight and desperate. He'd let out a gruff noise of pleasure, a few curses, and then a sigh. He'd be done in moments, and Clark would most likely be coming in his pants just from the feeling and the sight._

And, in real life, Clark was coming, keeping his knot at bay as he came against the wall, eyes still shut. He let out a deep, guttural groan, and in a few minutes it was over. Even without knotting his hand, he came, a lot. That was just the alpha in him.

Shaking his head, trying to push past the barrier that the pleasure had built up, he finished up his washing, picking up the wash cloth that had fallen during his haste to get off. He washed everywhere, before wiping up his semen that had ended up on the shower wall. He rinsed the cloth off, and then rinsed the conditioner from his hair. He breathed put a sigh, shut the water off, and climbed out of it, grabbing for the towel. He dried off and wandered from his bathroom to his bed, falling down in it and curling up there.

He almost hoped that the orgasm would set off his thinking for a while longer, to allow him to sleep, but it wasn't his lucky night. In the end, he thought about everything that was wrong with their relationship, both as friends and fuck buddies. He wouldn't let it phase him, but that didn't mean he was happy with the whole situation between him.

It was just before dawn when he finally fell into a restless sleep, curling under the blankets and cuddling a pillow. He wanted Bruce with him, he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait before giving up. He'd keep telling himself that he could wait forever, but he knew that wasn't the case.

He _hurt_ , and he wanted it to end, be it by them getting together or by him ending it altogether.

He truly hoped that it would be the former.


	4. Ch. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is stressed, Lois goes all mama bear on him, Bruce unravels an easy riddle, and they finally see each other after weeks of being away from one another (Bruce is also kinda a dick).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this chapter cranked out, and it's just the beginning of a small arc involving Bruce and Clark unraveling puzzles and growing closer. Be warned, I suck at writing villains, but I think this turned out kinda well. I hope you enjoy!

It had been a few weeks since the night of Bruce's embarrassing endeavor of creating a scene at the gala, had been a few weeks since Clark had rethought their relationship over and over again, mind whirling still whenever he thought about it. That night, he'd been fed up, no thanks to the fact that Bruce had been ignoring him (be it purposefully or not), and also that he'd just been so... Tired, of their whole game or whatever it was that they had. He never usually minded waiting, knew that it would be worth it in the end, but that night, a sad, desperate reality had set in, and he'd accepted it that this wasn't healthy, that he needed to make up his mind on whether to end it or not.

 

He hadn't had a night like that since, but that didn't mean that the thoughts didn't echo away in his head sometimes, that it should end soon, that it shouldn't, that he still had time, that Bruce was worth it, that maybe Clark wasn't good enough. Those thoughts always filled his mind, but he'd slowly been adapting to them, and usually the cynical voice in his head faded out to a buzz in the back of his mind.

 

He'd been distracting himself by saving lives and writing as many articles that he could. He knew Lois was getting worried, since, lately, Clark had bags under his eyes, making him look much older than he should ever look. He always told her he was perfectly fine, whenever she asked, but that didn't mean that she let up. She always told him to lay off articles that would likely be trashed in favor of some article about Superman or another member of the Justice League, but he never listened. He knew that they'd be trashed, that didn't mean he actually cared. It was a distraction, after all.

 

This night was a distraction as well, although not a healthy one.

 

Gotham's lights lit up the night sky, yellow and orange and pink and red all blinking as Superman flew overhead, eyes scanning the area, seeking some sort of crime that wasn't being fought by the Bat vigilante that night. He knew that Batman had his hands full, and, without the other man's knowledge, Superman had decided to help him out by catching criminals that weren't the Dark Knight's true problems. Petty burglaries, a few fires, maybe an animal rescue or two, nothing big that would automatically catch the media's attention, much less Bruce's.

 

He flew down low to a small, 24/7 convenience store, feeling as if something were off. He scanned the area, floating closer and closer before his feet touched the wet pavement. He stopped his movements, ears seeking out heartbeats that were beating too fast in the vicinity, and...

 

There it was. Three heartbeats, all going way too fast for a normal night, or even a jog (not that many people actually did that at night in Gotham). He used his x-ray vision to peer in through the walls of the convenience store, before flying through the doors, swooping the burglar off the ground, and leaving without much ado. He didn't want attention, didn't need it, didn't want Bruce calling him to gripe about him being in Gotham, and he didn't want to alert Batman. While their everyday personas were strangers and their superhero ones were friends, many people thought that they didn't get along. While that was well and good, Superman didn't want to end up pissing his friend off and causing him to make a scene, further ratifying the not-so-true fact that Superman and Batman weren't friends. He wasn't looking for a fight with the omega, so he did his crime fighting on the down low.

 

He carried the burglar by the collar of his shirt, kind of wanting to jokingly drop him before flying down to catch him, but he knew better. He wasn't that mean. The guy hadn't killed anyone, hadn't even really taken anything, he didn't deserve that type of treatment, not by him, anyways. What the Gotham police did to him while he was in jail for his almost crime was none of Clark's business, and he wouldn't snoop into it. He dropped the guy off at the precinct, mentioning the burglary to the dazed and starry-eyed beta behind the front desk, before leaving in a flutter of his cape.

 

It wasn't long before he was soaring back over Gotham. If he listened closely, he could hear Bruce's own heartbeat in the millions of others down in that crime ridden city, and he almost wished that he could fly down to help the man out with whatever he needed. He knew better, though, and chose to concentrate on other crimes happening down in the city that weren't being stopped by a certain vigilante.

 

As the night wore on and the dark began to become light, Superman continued to stop small, petty crimes, letting people off with stern warnings when it came to crimes that weren't harming anybody, and taking in bastards who robbed and abused and sold way too hard drugs for the streets. Looking up at the sky as he dropped off his last perp for the night, he watched as the darkness began to fade and light began to become more noticeable than before.

 

Knowing that his job was finished for the time being, he flew back over the city and flew back to Metropolis without much of a look back, ears still picking up on Bruce's heartbeat. He continued to listen, hearing as the thundering beat dulled to a slow lull, signaling that the Bat had fallen asleep. Smiling to himself, Clark went home, stripped, showered, dressed for the day, and was out the door with his laptop and notes, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

 

No sleep for another night, it was almost becoming a habit, he knew that he'd need to force himself to have a cat napduring his lunch break that day. Even thirty minutes of sleep was better than none, after all, even though it wasn't healthy. His kryptonian genes wouldn't keep him running on barely anything besides a couple of hours of sleep and some sunlight for much longer. That was fine. He could keep pushing himself, could keep working his ass off, and then maybe he'd have a restful night's sleep for once. He really, truly needed it (no matter if he thought he needed it then or later).

 

* * *

 

— **Lunchtime** —

 

Clark was huddled over his laptop screen, eyes squinted up behind his glasses as he read over the words, wondering if they flowed correctly or not. He felt exhausted, by now regretting not taking at least an hour of sleep before coming into work. It had been nonstop all day, articles flowing throughout the room, being passed along and edited, the typing of keyboards, the clicks of mouses, voices murmuring in the break room about someone being sent out for lunch.

 

It was when he felt a hand on his shoulder that he was startled out of his blank and almost empty thoughts, glancing up at Lois, who smiled down at him sympathetically. "Smallville, how about me and you go grab some lunch. I'm sure you need a break and I'm starving." By the look on her face and by the tone of her voice, Clark knew that he didn't have a chance against the omega standing over him.

 

He had no other choice but to agree solemnly, nodding his head before speaking, mouth feeling dry. "Ah, yeah, that sounds like a good idea." His own stomach gurgled, and while he didn't rely on food, it was definitely something that he enjoyed and knew that it could potentially give him the energy to keep him going that day,

 

He stood up, albeit clumsily, shutting his laptop (after saving his document first, of course), and moved away from the table, nearly tripping over the chair that he'd been sitting in. He looked at Lois bashfully, mumbling a soft, almost unintelligible excuse, before standing up straight. Or as straight as Clark Kent could stand up. He always tried to have a slouch of some sort when working at the Daily Planet, and he knew that his clumsy ol' persona would never be suspected of being Superman with the awkward, sloppy gait that he faked.

 

The only civilian that knew of him as Superman was Lois, and that was only because he'd saved her enough times over the course of their friendship and dating life that she'd have to be an idiot to not realize. And that she was not, not by far. It hadn't taken her long at all to discover that Clark Kent and Superman were the same person, and for that he was both grateful for not having to lie any longer, and fearful that someone else could easily learn the truth. Not many people knew of his secret identity, and he'd rather keep it that way.

 

Lois shook her head at him, smirking a bit and brushing some hair behind her ear, before nodding to the door, leading the way. "Come on, Smallville, we don't have all day and I'd like to get some sort of nutrition in my stomach before I have to go out and get ready for the evening news. I'd rather not be peckish while on air, we both know how I can get."

 

Clark followed after her, listening as she spoke, and he really did find her beautiful in her own right. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly, a few tendrils of hair falling out and making her look young. It wasn't that he was looking at her for any sexual or romantic reasons, not in the slightest. That had ended long ago, but sometimes he wondered what would have happened if things had gone differently, if she hadn't been gay and he hadn't fallen in love with the Dark Knight. He doubted they would have stayed together, their personalities clashed way too often for that, but he wondered if, maybe, things could have gone differently. He wouldn't trade his past or future for anything in the world, but he wondered if maybe he'd have found someone else, someone who would return his affections, or that maybe he wouldn't have fallen for Bruce.

 

But he knew thinking like that would never get him anywhere, so he shoved the thought away and just followed along after her, piping in here and there to offer some conversation as she talked. She seemed... Happy, happier than he'd seen her in a while. He wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed that earlier, but she looked like she was glowing. It made him wonder if maybe she'd found someone who completed her like he never could. Of course, he could point it out to her and make her confess, but he wanted to wait for her to open up to him about whatever (or whoever) was making her happy.

 

They arrived at their destination after a few minutes of walking, entering the small burger joint. They sat down at a table by the window after both ordering cheeseburgers and fries, being told that their food would be with them shortly, along with some glasses of water. As they sat there, Lois continued to talk about this and that, topics raging from politics to the greenhouse effect to violence in Gotham, which ultimately led the conversation to Batman.

 

When he heard the name said, Clark could practically feel himself both perk up with interest and deflate when he remembered that Bruce was ignoring him. Lois must have sensed this, in which she shot him a look, opening scanning his face and his body language. She just stared at him, analyzing him for a few minutes, and then stopped when their food and drinks were brought.

 

Picking up the bottle of ketchup and squirting a good amount in the corner of her fry basket, she lifted one up slowly, dunked it in the sauce, before eating it slowly. She chewed, swallowed, and then rested her elbows on the table, hands clasped together, and she was back to staring him down. "Now, Clark," she began slowly, head tilting just a bit, "I've been meaning to ask you...."

 

Clark felt as if his heart would beat out of his chest as she seemed to consider her words slowly. He was about to speak, to tell her now wasn't the time, but she gave him a hard look, and then continued speaking. "You and Batman.... Have something going on, obviously." Her voice was quiet, too quiet for such a loud eating place, but she knew he could hear her. "Before you ask me how I know, I've been suspecting it for a while now. He's a well-known omega, you two work together, and by the panic on your face right now, I'm right, aren't I?"

 

She lifted up another fry to her mouth, popping it into her mouth after dipping it in ketchup. "Before you speak or disappear like I'm sure you're tempted to, I think it's time we actually talk about this. Both your emotional and physical state lately, and the fact that you're fucking Batman."

 

As if done with her small speech for the time being, she lifted her burger to her mouth, biting into it and chewing slowly. Clark had lost his appetite by then, not wanting to discuss the whole situation, because even he didn't know exactly what was going on. Bruce had been distant, which in turn led to Clark stressing and worrying more than usual, which led to his lack of sleep, which added to his stress, which then made him overthink and over analyze everything and consider ending everything, and then that stressed him out even more. It was like a full circle of stress and worries and exhaustion.

 

He looked down at his burger, not wanting to meet her eyes, not wanting to talk about or admit that he was stressed and had been losing sleep. "I'm not really.... Up to speaking about this sort of thing... Not right now."

 

"Yes right now," Lois said almost immediately, mouth full of burger as she glared him down. "You're not getting outta this, Smallville. You need to talk it out, get things off of your chest, relieve your stress in a non-destructive manner. I'm all ears. Just... Speak."

 

Since Clark obviously didn't have much of a choice in the matter, he decided to spill some of the details. He left out the fact that Batman was Bruce Wayne, didn't mention their rules. He just stated that they'd been friends, they'd been fucking, Clark had fallen in love, and now Batman was being distant. He mentioned that he still overthought everything, in which she muttered a 'oh yeah, I definitely remember that', and he said that he hadn't been getting much sleep, both thanks to his extra night saving in Gotham and his muddled and depressing thoughts.

 

When he was finished speaking, Lois had finished her burger and was practically chugging down her water. She set the glass down slowly, before she was looking at him, sorrow and sympathy in her eyes. "Smallville.... You know that I'm always here if you need to talk, even if it's about worries about your current not-so-love life." Her eyes then hardened and she looked out the window, gaze on the streets outside, as if watching people walk by, but Clark knew that she wasn't seeing anything beyond the obvious anger in her body language now.

 

"Does he _know_ you're in love with him, Clark?" She asked finally, eyes still gazing out the window in anger. "And if he does, where can I find him so I can beat his ass?" Her eyes were back in him, anger and sympathy mixing together in her eyes.

 

"I, uhm, I don't know whether he knows or not. Sometimes I think that he does," he said, watching as her hands clenched under the table, x-ray vision being useful once again, "But then again, sometimes he acts like the most oblivious fuck in the world. I'm sure he suspects that I'm harboring feelings, but I don't know if he truly knows, or if he realizes how... Deep my feelings run."

 

"Oh, Clark," Lois whispered, voice soft, yet also holding a coldness under her tone, "I'm going to fucking tear this bastard a new one. You don't deserve that." As if true to her word, she was standing, fists still clenched, tension obvious in her form.

 

"Lois, you can't..." He began, and she was moving quickly towards the door. He was up in moments and after her, acting both like Clark, going slow as kryptonianly possible, but also going as fast as he could get away with.

 

It took everything in him to convince her that it wasn't worth it, that she wouldn't be able to change anything, and that she could easily make things worse. It took a while, but eventually his words seemed to sink in, and she accepted his words, albeit angrily.

 

He was both glad to have most of everything off his chest, but he was also unsure if him telling her so much was a good idea. Well, he guessed he'd figure this out at a later time, right?

 

* * *

 

— **The Batcave, That Evening** —

 

Bruce leaned back in his chair, staring at his computer monitor, shifting restlessly in his seat. His heat was a few days away, and he felt... Off, more so than usual. The cramps were there, although they weren't as bad as they would be, he felt as if he couldn't get comfortable, and he felt warm. All the usual symptoms of his heat that was nearing, yet he still felt more different than usual. Like he was missing something, or someone.

 

Deciding to distract himself from his impending heat, he turned his attention to the yellowed paper with words scratched into it, sloppy yet somehow legible. He lifted it up, staring at the words, knowing exactly who had written them, yet he still didn't know what they meant.

 

Commissioner Gordon had contacted him that morning, informing him that a burglar had been delivered to their precinct by a certain Man of Steel, and in the man's wallet there had been a sheet of paper with 'For Batman' written carefully on the worn sheet. Now he had it in his hands, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

 

_**Where Do Fish Keep Their Money?** _

 

It was the Riddler, it had to be, but Bruce still wasn't sure what it meant. The answer was obvious, it was easy to crack without him even having to really think about it.

 

A riverbank, that was the answer. He'd done his research on all the actual riverbanks in Gotham, and none of them really linked up to the crime that had taken place. As he sat there and stared at the note, he mulled over as many possibilities that he could think of. Usually the riddles were more difficult and he actually had to think them over to figure out what the answer was and what they meant. This one was easy, so he wasn't sure what the catch was, what the link was and what the Riddler was up to or hinting at.

 

It shouldn't be just an actual bank by the river, right? That was too easy. So what was it?

 

He hated these riddles and he hated these games. There was no point to them, other than the fact that the Riddler really liked to fuck with Batman, and by sending this simple riddle to him was really doing just that.

 

Fuck.

 

What did it even mean? Was he overthinking it?

 

Just, _fuck._ Maybe he was overthinking it. He leaned over his keyboard and typed in banks of Gotham. None of the banks that came up were anywhere near a river, much less had to do with a name of a river. Maybe he should try Metropolis.

 

Scanning over the lists and locations of the banks in that city, he felt a slight smirk appear on his face. There it was.

* * *

 

— **The Next Day, Downtown Metropolis** —

 

Clark stared at the sidewalk as he walked, making sure that he didn't run into any pedestrians as he made his way along the street. He didn't look around, didn't pay attention to his surroundings besides keeping his senses open so that he didn't run into anything or anyone. He wasn't his clumsy Clark Kent right then, he wasn't in that mindset.

 

He'd been told to take the day off, both by Lois and by his boss, Perry White, so that he could 'get his rest and think things over' (as told to him by the omega) and to 'get his priorities in order' (as told by Perry). Without much of a choice, and to put it simply, he'd been told to get the fuck out. While he didn't mind so much, since he could get work done at home, it still sucked to be forced to take the day off (and he wouldn't exactly be paid).

 

Hands in his pockets and head down, glasses a bit low on the bridge of his nose, Clark kept walking, not too sure where he was going. He was just walking, going wherever his feet took him. He didn't care at this point, in all honesty. He had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. Nobody was in desperate need close by, and he was too exhausted to openly seek out screaming voices and shouts of help from afar. He felt sluggish, even under the sun, and he knew it was due to stress and a lack of sleep.

 

He kept walking, not really sure where he was headed or if he'd run into anyone he knew personally. He wasn't exactly listening, either, until he didn't hear as many voices as before, and he heard a heartbeat that he knew just by the sound. Blinking and looking up, he found himself still on the sidewalk, but by the river in the business district. He was near a bank, and as he concentrated on where the heartbeat was coming from, he knew that Bruce was close. Really very close.

 

Quickening his pace and straightening up, he sought out the figure of his beloved, wanting to do nothing more than go up to him and inhale his scent, and then mask him in his own. His feet led him to where the heartbeat was, and he found Bruce standing in front of the closed bank, staring at a sign tacked to the door.

 

Without even having to make himself known, Bruce spoke to him. "Hello, Clark. Long time no see." His voice seemed unaffected, unwavering as usual, and the alpha swallowed thickly as he looked at his omega, really looked at him, and Rao if the man wasn't the most gorgeous person on this Earth, in this solar system, in the galaxy, even in the universe. If he'd thought Lois was beautiful, then Bruce must be otherworldly.

 

He wet his lips, mouth feeling dry. "Uh, hey, Bruce. It's... Good to see you." Actually, it was great to see him, to really see him up close and personal. Sure, Clark had been keeping an eye on the man from afar, but seeing him close enough to touch made him feel warm and almost happy. He'd be happier if Bruce would actually look at him, though.

 

"Likewise, although I'm sure you've seen enough of me during your trips in Gotham."

 

Clark swallowed, and was about to speak, but he was interrupted when those beautiful blue eyes finally looked at him, really looked at him, and he shut up almost automatically. He couldn't help but scent the man now, taking in his eyes and smell all at once, heart rapidly beating in his chest, stomach churning and clenching.

 

"I'm sure you figured I'd never really find out, but it gets back to me when the Man of Steel drops off crooks at the police station and they happen to hold things in their wallets for me." Bruce looked away finally, and Clark wanted to tear his eyes off of the omega, but he couldn't. He couldn't help himself as he drank in the sight of the man that he loved and stressed over.

 

 _Rao_ , it was so good to see him.

 

"What do you mean?" He asked, trying to shake off his bout of love for the man, wanting to concentrate on the conversation at hand instead of eating Bruce up with his eyes. "What was in a wallet?"

 

Bruce stepped close to the note, as if forgetting Clark was there for a moment, fingers ghosting over the paper before he ripped it off, folded it up, and stuffed it in his slacks' pocket. The alpha finally looked away from the billionaire, looking at the seemingly abandoned and empty building. Huh. He hadn't heard that it had closed, but it wasn't often that he came out this way. Usually that was Lois, and even then, there was no point for her to mention that a bank had closed recently.

 

"I'm almost positive that the Riddler is up to something, and as usual, he's started to play a game with me. Sent me a nice riddle all wrapped up for me in a wallet in a criminal's pocket, and you seemed to be the delivery man. Not sure if that was on purpose, but anyways, the riddle led me here." Bruce seemed annoyed at the fact that he had to play another one of the Riddler's games, but Clark couldn't blame him. He'd be pretty annoyed too if one of his enemies fucked with him like that.

 

"What was on that paper that you just took?" Clark asked, assuming that it probably had so,etching to do with the whole new game that had begun. Bruce seemed to tense for a moment, before he shook his head.

 

"It doesn't matter, not right now. This isn't your enemy, you're not a player in this game of his."

 

"But what if I want to help?" The alpha asked, shifting on his feet, feeling anxious, unsure. He wanted to help, wanted to show that he could be a good mate by helping Bruce, but he knew that the only way he'd be allowed to help was if he were dragged into the game.

 

Bruce looked at him slowly, eyes calculating, and then he turned on his heel and his back faced Clark. "Your help won't be needed. Go home, Clark. I'll contact you if anything comes up that I'll need your help with, but for now, you're not needed."

 

The kryptonian wanted to go after Bruce as the man walked away, but he knew better. He was still getting the cold shoulder, for whatever reason, and even while the omega's words shouldn't have stung, they did. They definitely weren't going to help him sleep that night. Knowing that he probably wouldn't get a look from Bruce again, he decided to go save lives, again.

 

He flew away in a flash, and wiped at his dry eyes. Oh, Rao, he hurt. He hurt so fucking bad. He didn't want to think, so he listened for cries of help and went to save the day.

 

 _Distractions, distractions, distractions_. Right now, they were the only thing keeping him truly sane.

 


	5. Ch. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As usual, Clark inner angsts, but he gets a call that surprises him, and in the end, he's happier than he had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop, finally finished this chapter after about six days of procrastinating and reading (and writing) Halbarry porn. It's not often that I'll be delving into Bruce's mind, but there's a small bit in here in all its glory. If there's any mistakes, don't hesitate in telling me and I'll fix it right away. I hope you enjoy!

_"I bowed to the idea of you like it was my religion. I'm still looking for you in every inexplicable dream, every bizarre coincidence."  
— false prophets lurk everywhere_

* * *

 

Lightning lit up the sky, thunder cracked, rain poured down from the heavens. It was a dreary, stormy night, Clark still hovering over Gotham, unable to help himself. Even after Bruce's words to him the other day, he couldn't help but want to be there, to help him in the shadows. He may not be allowed to help him with the Riddler mumbo jumbo, but that didn't mean he'd stop picking up the slack in Gotham while the Dark Knight went over the riddle, or riddles.

Clark wished he could give his knowledge to helping Bruce, to crack these codes and go over the words, taking in the double meanings and understanding what they meant and where they'd lead. But the omega didn't want his help, said he didn't need it, so he'd respect his wishes. He'd keep his nose relatively in his own business (except when it came to catching small-time criminals in Gotham, of course).

Pissing Bruce Wayne off was most certainly not on Clark's agenda, although that seemed to be something that he was good at, especially recently. For whatever reason, Bruce still avoided him and spoke to him in a cold tone, as if they weren't best friends. He knew when he was being avoided, so, as the good farm boy that he was, he'd wait until Bruce was ready to talk about whatever it was that he'd done.

Clark landed on a building overlooking the city, taking in the view as the thunder cracked around him, rumbling and making the building below him shake. The rain hit his cheeks, making it almost look like he was crying, and if he really wanted to, he could just let loose right then and if anybody were watching, they'd be none the wiser.

Since that was the case, he might just as well. The pressure in his chest had been building up for a while now, and letting it loose should be good for him. He tilted his head back and up, eyes shut as he felt the rain fall onto his face, and tears began to fall, intermingling with the raindrops.

He hoped that they could fix their friendship, and while the sex was nice, they didn't have to go back to it if Bruce wanted to stop altogether. Clark couldn't say that he wouldn't miss the sex, but he definitely wouldn't miss being played with and having his heart strings tugged at whenever he wanted to whisper sweet nothings to Bruce. He wouldn't miss getting strung along, and in the end, it was probably healthier for the both of them to just go back to being friends and just that.

Clark knew that his feelings wouldn't be fading anytime soon, not by a long shot, but he'd rather not have his heart stomped on every single time he wanted to break the rules between them, to push the limit and make Bruce see that he was loved. Their friends-with-benefits relationship was unhealthy, and as a whole, maybe even their friendship was that way.

He wasn't particularly willing to risk their friendship for his own benefit, so that maybe his heart could heal and he could take a break from the omega, but he knew that he'd eventually crack. Maybe not anytime soon, maybe not for months or even years, but sometime, he'd break down and he'd end it all. Bruce was so worth waiting for, he was worth the pain, he was worth everything, but even while that was true for Clark's inner alpha and his heart, that didn't mean it was true for the logical part of his brain.

The alpha stood there for who knew how long, basking in the rain and the storm above him, taking in the sounds that filled the air around him. The thunder faded away as he listed closely, picking through the thousands of heartbeats around him, seeking out that one particular heart that his soul yearned for.

Luckily for him, there was no trouble in those moments as he listened to the steady _thump thump thump_ of Bruce's heart. He could almost heart the blood pumping through the man's veins, pounding through him as he most likely ran and jumped and did his whole Batman thing.

It almost sounded like the beating was getting closer and closer, kyrptonian hearing no longer needing to work as hard as the heartbeat seemed to steadily grow in his ears.

Before he really realized what was happening, Clark was yanked from his thoughts by a deep, raspy voice. He inhaled slowly, still listening to that heartbeat, and took in the scent of the omega behind him, relishing in the divine pheromones that we're practically wafting off of the omega. _Bruce must be close to being in heat_ , his brain helpfully supplied.

Opening his eyes and turning, Clark found himself facing his beloved and he felt as if his heart could stop at the sight of him. Even in such a storm as this, even when in his batsuit, Bruce was still as gorgeous as ever, form tall and well-built. As if he were able to read his thoughts, the Dark Knight bristled and crossed his arms over his chest, cape fluttering around him as the wind blew.

"You really need to learn how to stay in your fucking city, _Superman_ ," Batman spat, anger obvious in his voice and in the way he held himself. Clark swallowed thickly and could feel his eyes prickle more with tears, which happened to roll down his cheeks moments later, easily blending in with the rainfall around them. "What are you doing here?"

Shifting, Clark made himself float up to a hover, feet no longer touching the building below him, no longer able to feel the waves of sound throughout the building from the thunder rumbling around them. He had the ultimate urge to reach up and wipe away the tears, but then that would make his crying obvious, wouldn't it?

He didn't want Bruce to see him weak, not in a moment like this, not when the man was obviously angry at him over _something_ (well, something other than the fact that Clark was in Batman's city, taking in his criminals when he probably should be over in Metropolis). He tried to crack a smile, but it felt forced and was liable to look forced, so he dropped it in a matter of seconds.

He probably looked like a sullen, drowned rat at the moment, the rain slicking his hair down and somewhat weighing his cape down, although thanks to the wind, it wasn't too bad.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to help you out." Okay, he should probably keep some of his snark under wraps for the time being.

Bruce's body seemed to tense up even more, before he proceeded to crack his neck and straighten himself up. "I can see that, but you're not exactly helping me out by standing on the roof of some building doing nothing but stare out into the city. Besides, I don't need _your_ help, I have my own."

"That may be so, but you don't have time to concentrate on petty criminals, and since I have some of my own time to kill, I figured—"

Bruce cut him off with a growl, stalking up towards Clark, looking much more intimidating than he should have any right to be, especially since Superman was the one towering over him. He'd uncrossed his arms by now and currently looked like he was about to attempt to deck Clark in the face, fists curled at his side as he glared up at the kyrptonian, mouth pulled into a sneer.

"I've told you this before and I'll tell you this again, your help isn't needed." The way he spoke made Clark's chest squeeze tightly, feeling almost as if he'd been punched by someone with super strength in the gut as his breath was ripped away from him. "You're not wanted here, not needed here, I have everything under control."

Clark could feel even more tears slipping down his face, still blending in with the rain, although he knew that even if Bruce saw his tears, the man wouldn't let up, not when he was this pissed off and worked up. He wanted to outright call Batman out on that lie, because if he had small time criminals and petty robbers running around, then he obviously didn't have everything under control.

He wanted to point out that, in the matter of a few days or in the next week, Bruce would be out of commission for a while, and they both knew that while the Bat family was helpful, they couldn't do everything on their own. They could barely do everything on their own _with_ Batman there taking down the bigger baddies.

He kept all those thoughts bottled up, though, knowing better. He knew that Bruce was hormonal, angry for no reason thanks to the obvious heat coming along, but there was something more hidden underneath that, something much more feral and angry than just some pissy omega about to go into heat. Clark wanted to break down those walls, wanted to find out what was going on in there, but it was the same case as not pointing out everything that he was thinking.

Pissing Bruce Wayne off was not a good idea, now or ever.

Clark inhaled slowly, trying to ignore the wave of _alpha_ that surged over him. He wanted to soothe and protect and care for the one that he considered _his_ , but there was no way to do that without pissing the omega off.

"Fine," he began, voice almost cracking, "I'll go. But, if anything comes up that you need help with...." He swallowed thickly, hating himself so much for backing down so easily like this, hating his urge to just say yes to whatever Bruce said, hating his heart and instincts over his logic choosing his motives, hating everything about this situation. "....you contact me, okay? I'll always come. You know that. Remember that....remember.... _anything_."

Without much more to say, he chose to just shut the hell up now, knowing that it was for the best if he just went. Clark lifted himself into the sky and took off, dodging a lighting strike here and listening to thunder rumble there. The rain still hit his cheeks, his tears still fell, and his heart still ached.

 _Rao_ , he was such a pushover, wasn't he?

* * *

 

— **Two Days Later, The Daily Planet** —

Some days - well, most days - Clark wished that he could go back, take away the start of his feelings, and just stop himself right then and there before he began his downward spiral into a mixture of heaven and hell. This was one of those days where he was so tempted to just give up, to give in to the logical part of his brain, and to just end it altogether.

Sure, he couldn't end their companionship when it came to just Batman and Superman, but that didn't mean he couldn't end their friendship as a whole. He didn't want to, he didn't wish that he needed to, but sometimes the idea was bliss. But then again, Bruce as a whole was bliss, and he didn't want to end _that_ for himself.

He wasn't sure if he were being selfish or just a love struck idiot. If he were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit that, while it was both, it was more the latter than the former option.

Shaking his head, he cracked his knuckles and typed away at the computer, choosing to concentrate on his work rather than his own personal life. Distracting himself was always the best course of action, even though he was still sleep deprived and depressed. He knew that Lois was liable to drag him out for lunch again to give him her Mama Bear talk, so he had to fake that he was alright. So long as Perry didn't fire him, he'd be perfectly fine for the time being. He wasn't about to collapse, if that were even possible for someone like him, especially with the sun shining and kryptonite being kept far, far away from him.

He was lost in the story, lost in the way the words flowed from him as he glanced from his notes to the computer screen and back, making sure that everything he wrote went along with the story that he'd collected the day prior. This was easy, this was what he was good at, this was what he needed for now.

It wasn't until he felt his League transmitter going off that he was pulled from his thoughts. He saved the document before pulling the device out and holding it to his ear, standing up from his desk and fled the room, albeit not as quickly as he'd like to. He headed to the bathroom in a matter of moments, going ahead and locking the door (no matter who it'd piss off), before finally speaking into the device.

"Yes?"

There was a soft rustle of what sounded like clothes, or bedsheets, and then Bruce's voice was there, husky and heated, yet still as serious as ever. "Clark, it seems that I'm... Unable to do much in my.... Situation, at the moment, and we must speak. I need to.... _ah_...fill you in on certain matters that pertain to what we spoke about a few days ago."

Clark swallowed. He could definitely tell that Bruce was in heat by now, if the way he spoke was anything to go by. He hoped that they wouldn't be speaking in person, less his inner alpha would want to take over and care for the omega.

"Can we do it now, or would you rather–" He stopped speaking the moment he heard a wet squelch come from the other line, which was soon followed by a heated moan and some panting. Clark wasn't sure exactly what Bruce was using right then, or even what he was doing, but he could tell he was alone, at the very least. He was so damned grateful for that, and he knew if was selfish of him to even think that way, so he tried to shut down those thoughts, wanting to focus on Bruce and what he wanted to talk about.

"....it would probably be best to do over the phone, but I'd rather see you face-to-face.... _ah, fuck, yeah_......it'll make explaining the....situation easier, and maybe I could.. _shit_.. Apologize for how I reacted the other night. Hormones, you know."

Clark was trying to stamp down on the desire that buzzed through him, ignoring the way heat pinkened his cheeks, trying to forget that a lot of blood was rushing south. An apology certainly sounded nice, but that didn't mean he'd get an apology for everything that Bruce had said. The omega knew how to play with words, knew how to distract and work around what really needed to be apologized for.

But Clark, in all his superhero-y and alpha-y goodness couldn't deny his omega anything, so he nodded to himself. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said quietly, hand gripping the transmitter in a tight hold, trying his hardest to not concentrate on anything but Bruce's words.

" _Hurry_."

That was all it took for Clark to be out of that bathroom in a ruffle of clothes and a click of a window. He didn't even unlock the door before he'd left; those poor souls.

* * *

 

— **Wayne Manor, Bruce's Bedroom** —

Bruce was twitchy as he shifted around in his bed, hands gripping the sheets, eyes screwed shut as a wave of heat and lust and pain hit him, causing him to gasp. He'd forced himself to put on pants once he'd stopped speaking with the alpha, not wanting to be too much of a distraction, but that was likely going to be too much to ask for.

He knew he probably smelled like a fucking pheromone factory for Alfred, who knew what he'd smell like for Clark. The man had never been with Bruce through one of his heats, and there was a ninety-six percent chance that the alpha hadn't seen him in this state, hadn't smelled anything beyond the beginnings of the heat or the after effects.

He knew for a fact that Lois and Clark had been together through one of her heats, so the kryptonian had been around an omega in heat before, so it was unlikely it would be too embarrassing for Bruce. But he also knew that Clark still had some semblance of feelings for Bruce, feelings stronger than the ones that he'd felt for Lois, so he wasn't sure how the alpha would react.

He licked his lips and arched his back burying his face in the slick and come stained bedsheets, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, trying to ignore his hormones, just for a little while.

He truly hoped that this would go well, and that his own instincts wouldn't make him roll over and beg at the first scent of _alpha_ that Clark was going to be emitting. It was be torture, likely for the both of them, but so long as he kept a fairly clear head during this talk, then they'd be fine.

He wouldn't beg, he wouldn't allow himself to, no matter how much slick leaked from his ass, no matter if his inner omega yearned to be touched, to be taken. He didn't share his heats with anyone, couldn't. It would open the doors to emotions that he didn't want to have, emotions that he was trying to shove down deep inside of himself.

He adjusted himself, sitting up, yet he still gripped the bedsheets. He watched the window, hazy eyes seeking out the figure of a flying kryptonian. Fucking hell, he just wanted to get this over with, and then he could strip these godforsaken pants off of himself and go back to fucking himself on the dildo that was currently seated in his ass. He shut his eyes, breathed in and out, trying to calm himself, trying to not think about his annoying horniness, trying to ignore that yearning and ache in his chest for _Clark_.

Love wasn't meant for a broken man like himself; _Clark_ wasn't meant for someone like him. He was too good, too pure, he deserved much more than Bruce would ever be able or willing to give.

That was one of the many reasons that Bruce was trying to shove Clark away, to make it seem that he was angry, to keep the alpha away from his fucked up self. He'd apologize for how he'd reacted the other night, of course, he couldn't let those words remain between them, but he wasn't going to apologize for anything more.

Bruce wasn't going to allow Clark in, and by making sure that never happened, he'd have to keep being an ass, he'd have to keep being distant. And then maybe, just maybe, they could go back to being just comrades, feelings hopefully fading on both sides (although on his own side, he'd never admit that they existed).

He turned his face away from the window for a few moments, hand sliding down to the front of his pajama bottoms, feeling his hard cock. As if on cue, there was a tapping on the window. Bruce quickly grabbed a blanket and covered his lower half.

In moments, cool air entered the room, making Bruce sigh slight relief. He turned his attention to the window, watching as the alpha entered the room. The smell of him – the smell of fucking gorgeous and beautiful _alpha_ – assaulted his senses, and he almost allowed a whine to slip out. He shifted some, wanting to get out of the bed so that he could properly greet Clark with a handshake, but he knew that if he did that, his lust and want would likely assault the alpha's senses.

The man had been nice enough to come by so that Bruce could explain this in person, there was no way that he'd do something to tempt the man.

"Clark," he began, voice almost shaky, but also as it usually was when he spoke to this man, "Thank you for coming by." He tried to meet the kryptonian's eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to, knowing that if he did, he'd be unable to stop himself from bending over and presenting himself.

This wasn't the time nor the place for that. The journalist had a job, a job that heat-ridden Bruce couldn't finish, and he wanted to be able to relay the information to him clearly without becoming side tracked at the prospect of sex.

He stared at the man's chest, swallowing thickly, waiting for the questions that were bound to come. "You said you had some information that you needed to tell me.... What's up? What do you need help with?"

Of course Clark still wanted to help him, even after everything Bruce had said to him the last two times they'd seen each other. There was no anger, no judgement, nothing that showed that he was upset after everything.

_What a fucking boyscout._

"I... I've cracked a few more of the Riddler's clues.... And I've cracked this one... Yet I can't quite... _Uh_ , figure out what it means right now." Taking the covers with him, he shifted up the bed and reached into his nightstand, taking out a sheet of paper that had the riddle jotted down on it, along with the answer and a few other things that he'd figured Clark would need to know.

Even when saying he wouldn't need help from the alpha, he'd still taken the time to make sure that Clark would be up-to-date on everything, just in case Bruce wasn't coherent when he spoke.

He held up the piece of paper and Clark strode forward, albeit awkwardly and with obvious tension in his movements. Bruce could feel guilt in his chest at the sight, knowing that it was his fault that Clark was no longer properly comfortable around him. He knew that there was a possibility it had to due with the pheromones leaking off of Bruce, but he also knew there was a high chance that it had to do with the way he'd been treating the man lately.

The sheet of paper was taken from his hand gently, fingers ghosting over his own for a moment. The barest of touches sent sparks flying down his spine, made his heart stutter in his chest, made his face feel warmer than it already had been. Clark gave him a slight smile, before his eyes scanned over the words on the paper.

Bruce could see the wheels turning in Clark's head, and after the man read over it once, he read it aloud, as if that would help him think it over better.

" _Who makes it, has no need of it._  
Who buys it, has no use for it.  
Who uses it can neither see nor feel it.  
What is it?"

Clark's voice was soft as he spoke, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, showing the radiant blue of his irises. Just the beauty in the man made Bruce's heart ache and butterflies curl in his stomach, but it also made heat ripple through him, causing slick to leak out from his ass, soaking his pants.

Before the alpha could read off the answer, Bruce answered it for him. "A coffin. I'm not totally sure if it has any deeper meaning, but... I think that... _Uh_..." His eyes caught the bob of Clark's throat, caught the flash of lust across the man's face before it was replaced with curiosity. "...that it's... Leading to a funeral home, first and foremost, which will likely lead to a buyer... And then possibly a dead body.... I'm not totally sure, but... That's the basic gist of it, I think....."

His eyes were tailing along Clark's body, omega instincts telling him that he should bend over and show how good he could be for this alpha. They were telling him that he should bare his throat, show his submissive side, beg for Clark to join him in his bed. But he stomped down on those thoughts, stomped down on the need, as he shifted his attention back up to Clark's face.

Wait, had he always been that gorgeous, Bruce wondered silently, taking in the strong jawline, the cheekbones that were sharp enough to cut glass, the piercing blue eyes, and subtle pink of his lips, the straight nose, the slightly curly hair that brushed over his forehead.... Oh god, he was beautiful. How had Bruce never noticed this before?

He tried to rip his attention from the beauty that was Clark Kent, that was _Kal-El_ of the planet Krypton, that was Superman of Metropolis, that was the alpha that sometimes graced his bed. It was difficult to do so, but when Clark spoke, he paid rapt attention, thankful for the distraction from the man's handsomeness.

"So you're willing to let me help you out?" Clark asked, voice almost hopeful, and the omega winced at the tone. "You're willing to let me do this for you, while you're... Incapacitated for a few days?"

"I, _ah_ , yeah.... What I said... The other day and night.... Can't really be unsaid, but... I am sorry, and I'm... If you're willing... Asking for you help." He wet his lips, trying to ignore the pain in his chest and the throbbing in his groin. Even when Clark was being a sad puppy, he was still hot as _Hell_.

Before he really knew what was happening, he found himself in an embrace, a face against his neck, warm and strong arms wrapped around his barely clothed body.

"I'll do whatever I can to help you, Bruce, you have my word."

The alpha pulled away, and before Bruce could really stop himself, he reached up and removed Clark's glasses, dropping them to the bed before cupping his cheeks. The warmth there, both in his eyes and on his skin, sent waves of want and need through him. "Thank you," he almost whispered, before leaning in and pressing his mouth against Clark's.

It was chaste, nothing like Bruce had ever given Clark, and if he were in his rational state of mind, he would have kicked himself for his foolishness. When he pulled away, he saw a goofy grin on Clark's face, those brilliant blue orbs shining with happininess, and for a moment, the ache in his chest eased up.

"It means... A lot to me... So.... Thank you, again. So, so much."

He felt out of character, and he'd blame it on the heat, and not on the pounding in his chest.

"You're welcome."

He received a gentle kiss, and then Clark was gone, again, the window left open with his departure. Bruce swallowed thickly, before moving the covers away and staring down at his groin. Well, might as well get back to what he'd been doing.

Superman had this under control, and for once, Bruce was satisfied with handing the reins over to someone else.


End file.
